


That ache down deep

by Dustbinflowers



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny, Porn With Plot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustbinflowers/pseuds/Dustbinflowers
Summary: Numbers and Wrench have been working together awhile.A night out at a bar after the smooth completion of a job in some small town, and Numbers and Wrench take a couple of young ladies back to the motel.Numbers is disquieted at his unexpected physical attraction to Wrench.
Relationships: Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovely people of this fandom, I've been lurking awhile, but this is my first work I have posted. Completely inspired by some of the fantastic Wrenchers works here. Thank you, keep doing what you do!
> 
> This has been in my head for awhile, but I can't shake the feeling I have unconsciously plagerised someone else's work. I've searched and can't find anything, but please let me know if I have ripped someone off inadvertantly. Any feedback is welcomed.
> 
> Please bear with my probably awful tagging- I'll keep working on it
> 
> I know some NZSL, but very little ASL, I started off writing dialogue as it is signed, but ended up writing it translated back into English. Which annoys me because it doesn't give a good feeling of sign language's grammar and structure, and doesn't capture a signer's voice properly. It is easier to read however. Sorry if the grammar is off. If anyone has tips on the writing of sign language dialogue I would be interested!
> 
> And yeah, smutty as hell :)  
> **still editing for my own satisfaction**

He threw back the remains of his drink, now too warm and watery and sweet, and thumped the tumbler down on the bar, harder than he’d meant to. He stood up from his bar stool deliberately, carefully; it had been a long four days on the job, and a long night of drinking after they had wrapped it up. He turned to the woman next to him. He aimed for one of his friendlier smiles, tried to make it go to his eyes.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

She glanced over at her friend. Numbers looked too. The short blonde woman and Wrench were already kissing, hands all over one another. Numbers and Sheri- was her name Sheri? Carlee? grinned at one another, and she nodded and grabbed her coat. Shrugging into his coat Numbers headed for the door. Sheri called to her friend from the door “Ange!”

Angie flicked her hair out of her face and smiled, pulled at Wrench’s arm, and they followed.

Outside it was bitter, that 1am cold which cut through the warmth of the alcohol instantly. They began walking back the two blocks to the motel and Numbers put his arm around Sheri. She smelt good, and despite the cold and the alcohol in his system he felt a flare of heat in his gut. In front of them Wrench and Angie wove across the pavement, kissing while walking. With their difference in height Wrench had to bend low and Angie lean back to connect. They stumbled and laughed. The tall man effortlessly picked her up and carried on walking. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw. Numbers caught Wrench’s grin in the flare of the overhead streetlight.

Despite the heater being on, the motel room was not that warm. Numbers took Sheri’s coat and hung it on one of the chairs with his own. Behind them Wrench pulled Angie down with him onto the bed. Angie squealed and the bed complained. Sheri rolled her eyes, smiling, and stepped forwards to kiss Numbers. He kissed back, bringing his hand up to her hair, and once again it was her smell which zinged in his gut. They deepened the kiss, and he ran his hands down her shoulders, her back, feeling her softness, her curves. Her hands were under his shirt, and he shivered, inhaling, and bent his head to kiss her collarbone, then lower.

They undressed one another, suddenly impatient, and lay on the bed together. Kissing again, Numbers touched her. She moaned into his mouth, her hips moving, and he stroked her. Her hand found his cock and squeezed it until he was fully hard.

Across the room Wrench suddenly grunted, and Numbers couldn’t help but glance over. He lay back on the bed, head back, eyes closed. His chest was bare and his jeans were on the floor. Angie knelt on the bed, rear in the air, mouth around his cock. Numbers felt his dick twitch, and groaned. Sheri, her mouth hot at his ear groaned

“Fuck me. I want you in me now”

Numbers rolled on top of her. God, she was hot and wet and tight. He breathed out through his nose, feeling her internal muscles squeezing around him, and began to move. After a few moments her cold hands found his arse, urging him to go harder. They were both panting, breaths hot on necks, shoulders, face. Too close, Numbers slowed the pace. He pulled almost out, them slid back in a long slow stroke. Sheri groaned, and squeezed his arse, eyes closed. Numbers did another couple of slow long strokes, then was able to return to a faster rhythm. Below him Sheri was gasping rhythmically, her eyes closed and her chest mottled pink.

Thinking about flipping her over and going doggy style, Numbers’ eyes slid to the other side of the room. Focussed. Wrench was on his back, the blonde woman riding him. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him. As Numbers looked Wrenched groaned, his head going back, eyes closed. He thrust hard into her and came with a long shudder, an explosive exhale which was almost a cry.

Numbers own orgasm hit him, and he gasped at the suddenness of it, choking off a cry into Sheri’s shoulder, shuddering for long moments. Under him she moved a few moments more then stilled. He could feel her disappointment, she had been close. Feeling a little ashamed he moved his hand to her clit, but she gently pushed him away. Quickly she finished herself off, breathing out her own orgasm a few minutes later.

They lay quietly a few minutes, but Numbers was restless. The bed was too small, he wanted to put his clothes on, he wanted a coffee and a cigarette. He really didn’t want her there. He was relieved when Angie bounced past to the bathroom a few moments later and Sheri (Kerri?) got up and followed. The door closed and after a moment the shower came on. He could hear them talking and laughing, but not what they were saying. Probably bitching about him coming too soon.

Numbers sat up, fished around on the floor for his clothes, and put his pants on. Sighing he stretched out on the King single, reclaiming the space as his own, and closed his eyes. Opened them again at the image of Wrench coming, eyes closed, mouth open, muscles straining, the guttural groan that had put him over the edge. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

Cursing under his breath, he sat up again, and grabbed his jersey and coat. Chucking them on he felt around in the pockets for the packet of cigarettes, pulled them and his lighter out. In the opposite bed Wrench reclined, regarding him with sleepy eyes. He had pulled his sweatpants on but had otherwise not moved from the position he had been in while fucking Angie.

 _Smoke_ Numbers signed as he headed for the door _You want?_

Wrench signed a negative, and Numbers went out, stepping into the frozen stillness. Fuck. He jittered from one foot to the other, his breath coming in clouds as he lit his smoke. The cold instantly made everything contract in his body. He needed to pee. Inhaling carefully- it really was that cold- he felt the nicotine hit, calming, stilling his twitchy brain. He sighed a long exhale of smoke and breath, and rocked back on his heels. Fucking long week. Thank fuck they didn’t have to be on the road early tomorrow- he really needed a decent sleep.

Behind him the door opened and Angie and Sheri came out. They had used the room’s phone to call a cab. A minute later Wrench came out, wearing a few more clothes- he’d put his boots and a jersey on. Wordlessly Numbers offered all of them cigarettes. Wrench and Sheri took one, Angie shook her head. A minute later the taxi’s headlights appeared down the road. The men quickly kissed the women like the gentlemen they were not, said their goodbyes, and went inside before the car turned in. Nothing to remember.

Inside Numbers listened to the sounds of the taxi doors closing, of the car moving back down the driveway. Satisfied they were gone he walked over to the tiny bench that served as the room’s kitchenette, made sure there was enough water in the jug, and switched it on. Behind him Wrench ambled into the bathroom and closed the door. The shower ran and Numbers cursed. There would likely be no hot water left for him. Immediately he felt grotty.

Grinding his teeth he waited for the jug to boil and wished he could smoke inside in the relative warmth. He’d never hear the end of Wrench bitching at him if he did that.

Ripping open the sachet of instant coffee he willed himself to consciously relax. For fuck sake, the job was done, and done smoothly, he’d had a night drinking whisky, a not terrible fuck and a cigarette, why the fuck was he still so wound up?! He poured the cup, added three sachets of sugar, and readied himself to step back outside to finish the cigarette. As he crossed the room Wrench came out of the bathroom, back in just his grey sweatpants. Broad chest and shoulders, that deep line delineating his hip and belly. Not looking, Numbers gestured to his cup with his cigarette, and stepped into the cold dark once more.

He stayed out for another cigarette, until it got too cold and his teeth were chattering. Stupid, but at least Wrench was in bed, his back to him, still and seemingly asleep. Good.

Numbers hung his coat on the chair, dug around in his bag for a t shirt and sweat pants, and changed quickly. He switched off the light but left the corner lamp on for Wrench. Collapsed into the bed and curled under the blankets. He fell asleep before he warmed up properly.

Awakening, with echoes of dreams he couldn’t remember, he became aware of being warm and comfortable, and of the discomfort of his full bladder and morning wood. He opened his eyes cautiously, wary of bright light and possible hangover. Grey light came through the gap in the curtains by the door. Outside it was quiet and he guessed it was still early. Across the room Wrench was a humped still shape under the blankets.

Numbers thought about peeing, and about a hot shower, and sat up. It was cold in the room despite the heater being on all night. He shuffled to the bathroom, bent around his hard on and his need to piss and the cold. Turned the water in the shower to as hot as it would go, pissed with difficulty as it heated up. The water pressure was shit, and he reluctantly turned it down, finding the best compromise between acceptable pressure and temperature before getting in.

Even if it was a crap shower, the hot water on the back of his neck was delicious. Sighing Numbers squeezed his cock, rocked against his hand. Supporting his weight against the shower wall with one hand, he grabbed soap from the dispenser and slid his soapy hand across his balls, back around his cock. The ache grew in his guts and he pumped hard, squeezed to the point of pain, held his breath until there were silver sparks behind his eyes and the feel of someone else holding him, and he came with a suppressed grunt.

Soaping up again, he washed himself briskly, rinsed his hair and beard, and got out as the water temperature began to fall. He managed to retain the warmth in his bones from the hot water. Fuck yes, winning.

Wrench was just moving when he walked out in a cloud of steam and his towel. He regarded Numbers from his nest of blankets as he switched on the jug then began rifling through his bag for clothes.

_Coffee?_

Wrench signed yes, and burrowed back under the blankets. Dressed, Numbers made two cups of coffee, put the milky one on the bedside table beside Wrench, knocked the bed with his foot to let him know, and went outside into the day for his first cigarette.

It was warmer, to the point where ice was melting, and Numbers savoured it by taking deep sucks of the cigarette, filling his lungs and enjoying the combination of nicotine and caffeine flooding his system. The trace of a hangover fled under the onslaught, and he felt something that was close as he got to contentment.

The door opened and Wrench wandered out, just in his sweatpants and jacket (bare feet!), sipping his coffee. He leaned against the wall, scowling.

 _You forgot sugar_ he complained one handed.

Numbers shrugged, then signed _Sorry_

Wrench looked at him a long moment over his cup, until Numbers scowled

_What?_

Wrench suddenly grinned, signed in a flurry which slopped his coffee.

_You should get laid more often. You almost nice this morning._

Numbers snorted and gave him the finger, but just drank his coffee. He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt in the general direction of the tin on the ground.

 _Hungry_ he signed _Want breakfast somewhere before we drive home?_

Wrench nodded, and drained his coffee, making a face at either the coldness, or the taste.

 _Bacon, eggs, hash browns_ he signed, and turned around and went inside. Came back out and signed massively

_Mushrooms!_

and went back inside.

Numbers sighed, and drained his coffee. Fuck. He was looking forwards to a few days away from his workmate. The guy was seriously fucking with his head. Time off, in his apartment, with his music, just away, would do him good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrench contemplates hog tying Numbers in the trunk and doing the job by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is something rainy autumn days in lockdown are good for, it is writing!  
> I am finding it most challenging writing, then changing my written language (NZ english and NZSL) to American language. Apologies for anything that I have missed.  
> I hope you are all happy and well xx
> 
> One more chapter after this one...

Numbers grabbed his toilet bag and stalked into the bathroom. The door slammed and Wrench sighed, opened his book. Finally, ten minutes without the insufferable fuckwit stomping and cursing and seething about the place. The last two days on the job had been painful.

It was challenging enough doing long hours of surveillance together, without Numbers going downright irrational on him. He’d thought they had developed a good way of working over the last six months- hell, when shit went down they were a formidable team- but right now the way Numbers was acting Wrench didn’t know if he could trust him if something went down.

The door flew open and slammed against the wall next to his head, making him flinch. Numbers came stomping out, face red, yelling at him. Completely unable to follow, Wrench just stared at him. When he paused for breath he raised his hands

_WTF is your problem?_

Numbers took a deep breath, visibly made himself calm down enough to sign.

_There is water on the floor. My socks are wet! What the fuck were you doing in there?!_

Wrench raised his eyebrows. He shrugged, made an obvious sign

_Jerking off in the shower._

Numbers’ face reddened, he forgot to sign again.

“Fuck! He said “I didn’t want to know that!”

_You asked me what I was doing._ answered Wrench reasonably. He closed his book and sat up straight.

_You. What’s going on?_

Numbers bent to take off his wet socks. He tossed them into the corner next to his bag of work tools, and sat on his bed.

_Nothing_. he signed irritably, and rubbed his face.

_Really?_

Wrench rapped on the bedside table and repeated himself when Numbers looked up

_Really? You’ve been mad_ -he used the sign for crazy-angry- _the last three days. Are you angry at me?_

Numbers shook his head, passed his hand across his bloodshot eyes again. He looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

_No.._ He shook his head, _Not you._ His hands were still a long second, his eyes flicked across Wrench, but he wouldn’t meet his gaze.

_I have some shit going on right now.._

Wrench leaned back against the bed head again.

_Sort it out_ he signed calmly, his eyes holding Number’s twitchy gaze. _We cannot do this job with you acting like a bitch. I will knock you down. Fucking hog-tie you and leave you in the trunk. I can do the job by myself if I have to._

Numbers took a deep breath. Met Wrench’s eyes. Wrench was surprised at the pain, the guilt in his face.

_Sorry_ he signed. _I’ll get it together._

Wrench tried to lighten it up- he’d never seen Numbers subdued, shaken, and it worried him.

_Maybe you need to get laid_ he signed casually _We could pick up some girls again._

The flare of discomfort in Number’s face was gone as soon as he saw it. Numbers waved dismissively, and stood up, ending the conversation.

_Shower._ he said, and went back into the bathroom. Wrench sighed and looked longingly at his book. Reached under the bed to pull out his sports bag of weapons. Time to get ready for the day. Hopefully they would have what they needed by that evening, without him having to knock some sense into his partner.

_Your problem. Tell me?_

They were sitting in the car, two hours in on the third day monitoring the comings and goings of the trucking company that owed Fargo payments. It was still early and quiet, a grand total of four people, all staff, had so far walked in the door.

Numbers signed a negative, shook his head, drank the last of his now cold coffee.

_Why not?_ Asked Wrench. He was lying with the passenger seat back as far as it would go and reclined, his arms crossed in his fringe jacket. He was still too tall to completely stretch out.

“Look.” Numbers thumped the steering wheel. _I don’t want to talk about it._ He crossed his arms, and stared away, across the car park.

Wrench whacked his leg to get his attention, and he snapped his head around. They scowled at each other.

_If I know we can maybe fix it._ Wrench signed, his face exasperated _Then maybe you would stop being so fucking annoying!_

“I don’t want to talk about it.” repeated Numbers through gritted teeth. He looked back out the window, down the length of the car park. Oh yeah, every time I close my eyes I see you coming, and it is making me crazy working with you all day and night

He felt like howling. Like burning stuff down. Like punching something until his knuckles were split.

Beside him Wrench smacked his leg again, and he turned, snarling.

_Boss walking in._ Wrench signed, and gave him a look.

They were driving on the empty stretch of highway between the industrial park and the town they were basing themselves at for the job. Crop fields- black and white and fallow, stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions. The landscape, but for an occasional clump of trees, seemed unchanging.

Suddenly Numbers leaned forwards to thump the dashboard next to Wrench. He flinched and looked at the man beside him.

“Stop the car!” he said, and signed _Stop_

Wrench slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded, fishtailed a little, straightened as he took his foot off the brake, slowed and stopped. He turned to look questioningly at his partner, but Numbers was already out of the car, walking fast to the edge of the road, stomping through the old grass flattened by the remains of winter’s snow, and vaulting the wire fence.

Slowly Wrench got out of his seat, unfolding stiffly, and turned to lean on the roof, squinting in the bright flat light at the figure receding across the field.

Numbers kept going for about 200 metres. As Wrench watched he pulled out his revolver, stopped walking, and fired up and out, into the emptiness of the landscape. He fired until the clip was empty, and then dropped his arm. He stood still for a long moment, then turned and walked slowly back to the car.

He got in and slouched in his seat. Slowly Wrench got back into the driver’s seat.

_Better?_ He asked Numbers nodded. Wrench started the car.

Wrench had been worried about Numbers, but once it got down to action he seemed his old self. Focussed, steady, brutal.

Like the predators they were, they arrived at the industrial park and were in and out fast, before their targets knew what had hit them. They swept into the office of the freight company, said who they were from, and demanded the outstanding documents and debt, plus interest. The two guys there handed it all over without any fuss. Straight out of the safe. Smart guys. It helped that Numbers was holding a pistol to their boss’s head.Five minutes later, with a warning that coming after them would not go well, they were on their way back into the town.

They returned the rental, Wrench waiting out in the car park with the bags, Numbers talking about farm machinery sales to the woman at the desk, then walked in opposite directions. Ten minutes later, Wrench pulled up alongside Numbers where he waited in a phone box outside a busy supermarket.

Grabbing the heavy sports bag he threw it in the back seat and jumped into the front.

_Fargo happy._ he signed to Wrench, and they pulled away.

The six hour drive home was quiet. Numbers fell asleep as soon as they were on the highway, his head turned away. Wrench didn’t mind. He enjoyed driving. The job had gone well, and hopefully whatever Numbers was dealing with he’d get out of his system quickly.

Four hours in, he pulled over at a highway diner. He was starving. Numbers woke up and looked around. Wrench flicked his fingers to get his attention, then ran his hand fingers and thumb crooked, down his front.

_Hungry._

He got out of the car and headed inside. By the time he was back out of the bathroom Numbers was at a table, looking at the menu. The waitress had been around and poured coffee, and was hovering around waiting for their order. Sliding into his seat, Wrench looked briefly at the menu, then flicked his gaze up to Numbers.

_Burger and fries. Thanks._

Numbers nodded, and ordered for the both of them. He sipped at his black coffee and sat back in his seat. Wrench thought he looked better for the sleep he’d had, and the calmest he’d been in days.

Numbers took the wheel for the remainder of the drive home. While Wrench slept he fiddled with the car radio until he found a rock station. Turned up the best ten QOTSA special that was playing until it rattled his teeth and Wrench moved, able to feel the vibrations. It suited his mood.

Wrench got him to stop at a store for a case of beer. Numbers thought about whisky, about the obliteration in a bottle. All he wanted was his brain to stop in its circling. He bought a bottle of not the very cheapest bourbon, and shoved it in his bag. Later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> god, finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. And we know where it's going. I am not likely to go any further with this one, but am hoping to come up with some other ideas. Suggestions and collabs welcome!
> 
> Happy All Fools Day lovely people, that is one hell of a practical joke we've got going on globally...

When they got back to town Wrench asked if he wanted to drink a few beers at his. He could drop him back at his place later, or he could crash there. Despite the bottle in his bag, and his seething brain, Numbers agreed. A couple of beers and then he’d go home and shut himself in.

_At least I didn’t have to kick your ass._ said Wrench. Numbers grimaced.

_I wish you would._ he answered. Wrench raised his eyebrows at him and he shook his head, muttered something under his breath.

Wrench finished his beer, dropped the bottle into the box and reached for two more. Offered one to Numbers. Numbers took it, sculled the last quarter of his bottle, and cracked the fresh one. He put his bottle down and signed, not looking at Wrench.

_It’s not going to work. I’ll go to Fargo and ask for another posting._

Wrench waved him off impatiently, scowling angrily.

_What!? Why is it not working?!_ he demanded, his face shocked. _I thought we were good? What’s changed?_

Numbers just shook his head. He looked miserable.

Wrench stared at his partner, confused and hurt.

_I don’t want to work with anyone else,_ he signed. _We are a good team. But I can’t work with you like this._ He sat back. _We fix how?_

Numbers sculled his beer and got up, grabbing his coat from the arm of the couch.

“I have to go.” he said.

Wrench thumped the arm of the couch angrily.

_No! We talk about this!_

_No. I'm going._

_Fuck you. Where?_

_Out._

_Want me to come?_ Wrench really didn’t want to go out, but he wasn’t sure Numbers out alone was such a good idea.

_No_. Numbers signed adamantly.

_Where you going?_

“I am going to get very drunk.” Numbers said, with a weird smile on his face. It was not a reassuring expression.

Wrench sighed, recognising that he wasn't getting anywhere.

_Don’t get too drunk._ he signed.

“Too drunk for what?” demanded Numbers. Without waiting for an answer he turned away, shrugging on his coat, wrapping his scarf around his throat. Wrench kept looking at him, but he kept his face turned away and went out the door in a blast of cold air.

_Fuck you!_ Wrench signed, kicked the wall, then went and sat down, head back and eyes closed for long minutes. Then he got up and grabbed his book from his bedside table.

He was asleep on the couch when his phone buzzed. He opened the text from Numbers

** >Hree< **

Yawning, he got up and crossed to the door. Opened it to find Numbers swaying on the step, trying to light a bent cigarette.

“Fucken cold.” he mumbled, stumbling inside in a waft of frigid air, cigarette smoke and alcohol. Wrench wrinkled his nose but closed the door behind him.

_Thanks._ Numbers signed as he collapsed onto the couch. He put his head back, eyes closed, then opening them suddenly, fixing Wrench’s gaze with his dark eyes.

“Not too drunk to get back here.” he said triumphantly. Wrench snorted and went to switch the kettle on.

An hour later Wrench woke up on the couch. Numbers had slid sideways and was leaning on his arm. Gently Wrench shoved him upright, then rapped with his knuckles on his collarbone. Grimacing Numbers woke up. He looked around with bloodshot eyes, rubbing where Wrench had tapped him

“Ow” he complained.

_Brush your teeth then go to bed_. said Wrench.

_Stay on couch._ signed Numbers blearily. He made to lie down, but Wrench hauled him up, signed one handed.

_No. Bed. Toothpaste first. Your breath smells._

_Rude._ signed Numbers, but he shambled to the bathroom.

Door closed, he stared at himself in the mirror. What a mess.Trying not to sway too much he pissed, then washed his hands. The soap was the same mechanics soap that they used for getting blood off clothing. Sighing, he splashed cold water on his face, squeezed some toothpaste on his finger and half arsedly attempted rubbing his teeth. Ended up swilling it around his mouth and rinsing, then drinking a few handfuls of water from the tap.

When he emerged Wrench had changed into sweat pants and a t shirt. Obediently he followed him into the bedroom.

_That side._ said Wrench.

Numbers carefully got into the bed. Holy shit it felt good to lie down. He sighed and closed his eyes. On the other side of the bed Wrench rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Within moments his breath deepened and slowed. Numbers sighed again and wished he could fall asleep like that.

He awoke before light, lying on his side. The blankets were heavy, and as he shifted he realised it was because Wrench had his arm thrown across him. For awhile he lay still, feeling Wrench breathing beside him, hearing the tiny squeak in his nose on the exhale, his guts gurgling. Even with several blankets between them he radiated heat. He had been this close to Wrench before- they had slept in the car more than once, but this felt different. Stop it, he told himself.

After a few minutes he carefully slid out from under Wrench’s arm, and padded out to the bathroom.

Despite the earlier toothpaste his mouth tasted like something had taken a shit in it, then died. He repeated the toothpaste process, dug around in the medicine cabinet and found some paracetamol, swallowed several with some water and went back into the bedroom.

Wrench was asleep on his stomach, head to one side half underneath his pillow, mostly not under the blankets. Pretty much taking up the whole bed. Numbers slid back into the bed, successfully managed to claim some blanket back, and rolled onto his side. He was almost asleep when Wrench rolled towards him and put his arm over him again. Somehow he wasn’t surprised that Wrench, despite his ferocious scowl, was a snuggler. He fell asleep again, even with Wrench disconcertingly breathing warmly on his right shoulder.

He surfaced from sleep, warm, half dreaming. Wrench, still asleep, made a quiet noise and tucked himself tighter into his back, his arm pulling him into his warmth. Numbers tried to relax into the shape of the man behind him, tried to ignore the way his dick was hardening. Finally he moved his arm, reached back and tentatively stroked Wrench’s shoulder. Wrench arched his back, stretched massively, and opened his eyes as Numbers rolled to face him. They regarded one another.

_OK?_ signed Wrench.

Numbers nodded, and knocked _Yes_ with his left hand. Tentatively he reached out to touch Wrench again, stroking along his side. Wrench leaned a little away from him, to better read his face.

_You want to?_ he asked, using the sign to show desire.

Numbers nodded again. His heart was hammering, he was sure Wrench must be able to feel it.

_You?_ he asked. Wrench regarded him a long moment more, then made a sign that conveyed consent.

_Fuck yes!_ he signed and grinned, then leaned forwards to kiss Numbers.

Kissing Wrench was different from anything in his experience. At first Numbers was frozen, the feel of the other man so close was overwhelming. After a few moments he realised he had been holding his breath, and exhaled. His body relaxed and he returned the kiss.

They surfaced, and stared at one another. Numbers’ heart was hammering.

_OK?_ signed Wrench again.

_Yes!_ signed Numbers.

Soon they were both breathing hard. Wrench’s hand slid along his side, up his back under his singlet, cupped the back of his neck, then slid back down to grasp his hip. Numbers couldn’t stop the sounds in his throat, the way his hips wanted to move. He ducked his head and mouthed Wrench’s throat. Wrench growled, and his gut flipped hard, He shivered all over. Wrench grabbed his hip hard again, pulling him toward him, grinding them together. His kiss was suddenly harder, urgent. His hand slid back across his arse, circled his hipbone again, the pushed down to grasp his cock through his boxers.

Oh god. Numbers felt like his eyes were rolling back in his head. He moaned as Wrench bit his throat and squeezed his dick, felt his hips uncontrollably thrust. His left hand grabbed Wrench’s flank, dug in. Wrench squeezed his dick again, then he shifted his weight. He signed something, but Numbers missed it.

“Off!” he said forcefully, his voice loud in the still room.

He shoved Number’s boxers down, then his own. Numbers got his down enough to kick them off into the bed, then Wrench grabbed him again, his hands and mouth hot. For a long few moments they ground against one another, then Wrench paused, reached behind him. Numbers heard the distinctive sound of a bottle of lube being opened, then Wrench reached for him again.

Adjusting his angle he took both their cocks in hand. His hand was slick with lube, and Numbers couldn’t help the whimper which escaped his throat as he began to build a rhythm. After only a few moments they were both thrusting, both grunting, and Numbers knew he couldn’t last long. He looked down to watch Wrench’s hips, their cocks sliding in his big hand. Wrench threw his leg over him, and half on him, thrust hard. His breath was hot on his neck, at his ear, and he suddenly groaned, his muscles tensing, and came. Once again, it was the sound of him coming which put Numbers over the edge. It crashed over him in a wave, starting in the soles of his feet, ending with a long shudder that left him wrung out and breathless.

They were both still for long moments but for their breathing. Wrench rolled away, reached over the side of the bed. He wiped himself, then chucked the towel at Numbers.

_Thanks._

Numbers wiped the cooling stickiness from his belly and groin, then dropped the towel beside the bed.

As his heart and breathing slowed, his brain kicked in. This is not a solution He pushed the thought away. Not now. Later.

Beside him Wrench moved. He rolled his head towards Numbers, caught him with his green eyes.

_Coffee?_ he signed. Numbers nodded

_Yeah, thanks_. 

They were in Wrench’s living room, cleaning all their work equipment after the last job. Wrench sat cross legged on the floor, surrounded by several dismantled firearms, carefully laid out on an old sheet. Numbers sat on the couch, leaning down to place pieces on the sheet as he inspected them. He still hadn’t gone home, it was afternoon and he had to leave soon, before he outstayed his welcome.

Wrench clicked his fingers to get Number’s attention.

_I want to know_ he signed _Was that your problem? For how long?_

Numbers shrugged then nodded.

“Yeah.” he said aloud, then signed.

_That night two weeks ago, when we picked up those chicks?_ His hands stilled and clasped in his lap. Wrench waved him on.

_And? What about it?_

Number’s face was pale, with two pink spots on his cheeks

_When we were fucking I watched you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it._

Wrench sat back. He had caught Numbers looking at him sometimes, but had figured it was just that. Numbers seemed completely not into guys. To be fair though, he seemed to dislike people in general.

_Well I am hot_. he signed. Best to play it light. He grinned around his beer Numbers smiled back, he couldn’t help it, then was serious again.

He ran his hand through his hair.

_Still a problem. It’s not professional._

_I never saw that part in our work code of ethics._ answered Wrench dryly. He picked up a rag and began carefully cleaning a piece. Looked up again when Numbers waved his hands in exasperation.

_Fuck! You know what I mean! Stop making this a joke!_

_Sorry._ said Wrench.

He put down the rag, regarded Numbers with his steady gaze

“I don’t usually-” Numbers started, then signed

_I’m not gay._

Wrench shrugged.

_Me neither,_ he replied, _but I sometimes like to fuck guys._ He grinned again, it made him look about fourteen. Numbers snorted and Wrench continued,

_I don’t see the problem, as long as it doesn’t affect the work. I’d like to keep_ \- he made a sign that was obvious - _but if you don’t want to, OK._

Numbers nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything. He needed to go home and process everything. Listen to loud music and probably get obliterated. Sleep for a day. Do some laundry.

_Going to finish this and go home soon._

Wrench nodded, but didn’t say anything. Just picked up the cleaning rag again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrench makes his feelings known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I couldn't leave these guys alone.  
> Also, I just found out people in the US don't usually use electric jugs to boil water for hot drinks.   
> I am devastated! My main non-porn plot device until now has been Numbers waiting for the water to boil to make coffee...

_Three days_ _later_

  


Wrench sat down opposite Numbers. The booth was in watery morning sunlight and Numbers was in sunglasses. 

_You look like shit._ he signed, then looked up to nod to the waitress pouring his coffee. Numbers shrugged when he looked back at him. He felt like shit. A hot shower, half a packet of cigarettes and a whole lot of coffee had not been able to cut through the last couple of days. 

_Bourbon._ he signed with a grimace. Wrench just nodded and began reading the menu. Numbers sighed, and drank his already too cold coffee. Wrench would order the same thing he always did. 

_You order?_ Wrench asked, raising his head. Numbers shook his head, waved a negative. His system was not ready for anything solid.

Wrench turned and waved at the waitress, stabbed his finger on the bacon and eggs, and signed his thanks to her. She looked at Numbers. He shook his head.

“Just more coffee thanks.” 

Halfway through his breakfast Wrench put his knife and fork down. Still chewing, he looked at Numbers.

 _Are you going to request another partner at the meeting today? Do you still think we can’t work together any more?_ he asked. His eyes, often green, seemed greyish today. Numbers sighed and put down his coffee. 

_No_ , he answered, _But we can’t do that again, ok?_

Wrench had an expression that suggested it was not ok, but he shrugged, and drank his coffee, didn’t argue. Numbers wanted to say something more, but he didn’t know what exactly, and his head hurt, so he didn’t say anything. 

  


  


_Months later._

_  
_

He stood by the the kitchenette of yet another motel room. They were in the far north of the state, almost as far as they could go before they hit the border with Canada. Another job exerting some pressure on a company which was getting a little lax on their monthly payments. Gentle, or not so gentle reminders seemed to be their specialty right now. Mostly it was easy work, the threat of violence with generally little need to follow through. It wasn’t snowing. Numbers guessed he had little to complain about. 

This particular motel room’s brown formica kitchenette benchtop was crammed into a tiny mirrored alcove hard against the bed; there was just enough space for him to stand as he waited for the microwave to heat his cup of water enough to add the sachet of instant coffee. Microwaved coffee sucked. The microwave dinged, and he punched the door release, reached for the hot cup. 

Across the room Wrench got up, stalked over. As he came close Numbers glanced at him, registered the scowl. 

_What? You said you didn’t want coffee._

Wrench didn’t answer, just crowded closer. He reached out and grabbed the cup from Numbers, put it down on the bench, and leaned forwards to kiss him. 

Numbers was surprised into stillness. His gut flipped and he shivered. Wrench stepped away. 

_I’m tired of pretending_ he signed forcefully, still scowling _that there is nothing between us. I want you._

His back against the textured wallpaper, Numbers stared at Wrench. He raised his hands to say something, then dropped them.

“Come here.” he finally said. 

Wrench just stood there, glowering, head forwards, shoulders raised, as though he was expecting a fight. 

_Come here._ Numbers signed, then pushed himself away from the wall, towards the other man. 

He reached Wrench, grasped his upper arm, and leaned into his solidity. As they kissed Wrench made a little sound, and Numbers sneaked a glance through his eyelashes. Eyes closed, face smoothed from his habitual scowl. God he was beautiful. Then Wrench’s hands were running down his sides, sliding under his shirt, and Numbers was incapable of any thought at all.

Sliding his hand up, under Wrench’s shirt, he felt the hot skin of his back. His senses full of his taste, his smell, his feel, he moved his hand around his side, palmed hip and stomach and, as Wrench kissed him hard, pushed his hand down over the front of his jeans. Wrench breathed out in a huff, his head going back as Numbers found his dick and squeezed it through the tight denim. Leaning into him, Numbers mouthed his neck. Wrench groaned, his voice guttural, and squeezed his arse hard. Then they were staggering across the room, hands grappling at belts, suddenly desperate to get at one another’s skin.

_Off Off Off!_

Numbers laughed breathlessly at Wrench’s demand, at the way his hands chopped the air. He undid his belt and pants with clumsy fingers. Wrench did the same, yanked down his jeans to mid thigh, then pressed against him. His hands slid Number’s pants down over his hips. He kissed him again, rough for a second, then more softly, slow tongue and teeth that made Numbers feel as if he was going to come apart. 

Wrench’s hand slid back under his shirt, then down. He dipped his head and sucked at his jaw, bit as Numbers groaned, and squeezed his dick suddenly, hard. Numbers couldn’t help the sound that came from his throat. He rocked his hips, his hands grabbing at Wrench. Wrench kissed him again, achingly slow, his hand still hot around his dick. He pulled back, was still a long moment until Numbers opened his eyes. Met that green intense gaze, pupils huge,his expression something he didn’t have words for. Numbers held the other’s gaze and breathed out. His hands felt disconnected as he signed carefully.

_I want you. Now._

He saw Wrench’s pupils dilate in reaction, saw his intake of breath. Then his partner was kneeling before him, was holding him by hip and cock, was lowering his head and taking him in his mouth. Numbers wasn’t sure how he was still standing, and as Wrench gave him head he knew he was going to fall if he didn’t find a wall or a bed. Gasping, he reached out to stroke his thumb along Wrench’s left eyebrow. Wrench met his gaze, his mouth full, and Numbers managed to remember the sign for _bed_. 

Wrench withdrew, grinning, the sensation of his mouth vibrating from the soles of Number’s feet to the roots of his hair. They shuffled the four feet to the bed and Wrench pushed him down, pulled his still trapped feet free of his pants, then lowered his face to his dick again. After only a few minutes he felt his orgasm rising through him, that electricity starting in the soles of his feet.

“Fuck,” he said hoarsely, then pushed at Wrench, signed some approximation of c _oming_. Wrench just gave him a look which was downright sinful, and did something with his tongue which put Numbers past the point of no return. 

He came hard, white flashes behind his eyes, aware of Wrench’s hot hand on his stomach, feeling the sounds he was making. 

Wrench slid up onto the bed, pushed his mouth, salty and strange-familiar, onto his. Breath slowing, Numbers kissed this other man, who he knew, yet did not know, and ran his fingers over his shoulder, down his side. He gripped his hip and traced with his thumb the muscle line delineating stomach and groin. Wrench hissed and moved and bit Number’s lip gently. Grinning at the knowledge that Wrench was ticklish, Numbers rolled onto his side, making a little more room. The king single bed was not large enough for the two of them. 

_You want what?_ he asked. Wrench shrugged and grinned. Numbers couldn’t help smiling back. 

_You have a massive hard-on._ It was hard to sign lying on his side.

Wrench laughed, and Numbers ran his hand down his side again, brushed against Wrench’s dick. Brushed again, slid his fingers around, and squeezed gently. Wrench exhaled, his eyes closing, head falling back. Despite having just come Numbers felt the ache low in his gut. He moved his hand, pumping, felt his own dick twitch as Wrench sighed again and rocked against his hand.

Breathing deep, Numbers shifted his weight so that he could put a foot on the floor. He shifted down until he was crouching, his face at Wrench’s groin. As he breathed in and took Wrench’s dick in his mouth, he felt the other’s fingers push through his hair. Numbers was sure he was not particularly good at giving head- he’d only done it a few times, and only with a few people. But, he figured, he knew what felt good. 

Despite him struggling to take all of Wrench in his mouth without gagging, Wrench seemed to be enjoying it. His fingers lightly gripped him by the hair, directing his movement and holding him gently in place. The gentle pressure, urging him just a little deeper, made Numbers whimper, made his cock hard against his belly again even as his eyes watered and his jaw began to ache. Wrench breathed hard, and groaned, began moving his hips a little. Numbers pulled back a little, almost gagging, pushing against the hand on his head. He licked and sucked the head, then resumed a steady rhythm. He managed to look up. Wrench lay on his back on the bed, his head back eyes closed. His face was pink. Numbers was reminded of the night he had watched Wrench in the very same position with someone else. He groaned around the cock in his mouth, reached up to tap Wrench’s collarbone. 

_Watch me._ he signed when Wrench opened his eyes. 

_Fuck!_ signed Wrench _You feel good!_

He groaned, his hips jerking, as Numbers swirled his tongue around the head of his dick again, then bobbed his head. The guttural groan, the sudden tightening of Wrench’s muscles beneath him was almost enough to set him off again. Wrench tightened his fingers in his hair, shuddering. Numbers felt the heat of his come in his mouth, turned his head and spat, the intense taste too much. He grasped Wrench’s cock through his orgasm. His hand, arm and one shoulder were striped and sticky.

Wrench reached down to grab him by his sticky shoulder, pulled him up the bed. Still breathing hard, he kissed Numbers deeply. 

They lay quietly for awhile. Despite being crammed together on the too-small bed, despite his cravings for a cigarette and that long forgotten coffee, Numbers didn’t want to move. It was finally Wrench that got up first. Sitting up he pushed Numbers gently out of the way so he could stand up. He pulled his jeans up and went into the bathroom. Numbers sighed. Thought about that coffee and cigarette, and sat up too.


End file.
